And You Will Keep Me Safe and other stories
by PhantomBialystock
Summary: A collection of short Producers stories and writings. NEWEST: Moving Day. After hearing some bad news, Leo decides to temporarily move in with Max.
1. And You Will Keep Me Safe

**A/N: This came to me when I was watching the scene in which Franz goes on a killing spree in the office. I thought to myself; what would happen if his gun didn't run out of bullets, and he hadn't turned the gun on himself? This is the result, inspired by a Les Miz song. The song is copyrighted to the owners of Les Miz, and any dialogue I used, as well as characters, from The Producers movie/musical is copyrighted to Mel Brooks and Tom Meehan.**

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And You Will Keep Me Safe**

_Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius_

_I don't feel any pain_

_A little fall of rain_

_Can hardly hurt me now_

_You're here, that's all I need to know_

_And you will keep me safe_

_And you will keep me close_

_And rain will make the flowers grow_

_- A Little Fall of Rain _from Les Miserables

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"Give me those freakin' books!" I scream at Leo, struggling to pull the two accounting books from his tight grasp. I can't let him turn us into the police. It's too early in the game, and who knows, maybe they won't even catch us if we keep quiet about our scheme to make millions off of a fraudulent musical.

But Mr. Leo Never-Tells-A-Lie Bloom has other plans. "I never should have listened to you!" he yells, yanking the books towards his chest. "I was an honest man!"

"An honest man? You were an honest _mouse_!"

"Oh how I HATE you!"

"Double! Double!"

We sling insults back and forth at each other for quite a while, acting more like third graders fighting over a swing than full-grown men. Once Leo tires of the verbal assaults, he decides to try physically assaulting me by jumping on top of me. And who just happens to drop in at this very moment?

Roger and Carmen, the two biggest fruits I ever met.

After Roger makes the observation that Leo and I look like we're . . . erm . . ._ celebrating _to put it in his words, I push Leo off of me, letting him have the books, and march up to Roger. "You lousy fruit! You ruined me!"

Carmen steps in front of Roger to try to defend him, but I know how to get him to shut the hell up; I grab those chains around his neck.

"My chains! My Italian chains!" he screeches just as our next visitor decides to make his grand entrance, greeting us by shooting a few bullets from a pistol all while walking about with a crutch and his left leg in a cast.

You guessed it. Franz Liebkin.

"You have broken the Siegfried Oath!" he exclaims as Carmen, Roger, Leo, and I scramble about the room. "You must die!"

Franz shoots more bullets while we all frantically try to hide. Roger and Carmen pick what else but the closet while Leo and I dodge some bullets to look for a spot. We only manage to get under the desk. It doesn't take long for Franz to find us under there.

"Remember when I told you I'd tell you when we're in too deep?" I ask Leo as he inches closer to me.

"Yeah?" he replies.

"We're in too deep."

Franz approaches us, that insane-killer look plastered across his face. My heart is pumping against my chest. Leo is breathing heavily. "Alright, Bialystock und Bloom," he says. "Now I've got you! Say your prayers and auf wiedersehen!"

He raises his pistol, prepared to slaughter us like cows that will soon be turned into juicy hamburgers. Leo and I clutch onto each other and make desperate pleas for our lives. "Please don't!" I exclaim. "Franz, don't do it! We didn't mean to! DON'T DO IT!"

I expect to hear a gun shot despite our begging, but instead I hear a sound of disgust from our not-so-friendly Nazi.

"Sniveling cowards!" he shouts. "Cringing under a desk like baby booterflies! Now die like men!"

Tears burn my eyes, and I can hear Leo's soft weeping. I want to tell him that everything's okay, but I can't, especially when Franz has his gun pointed directly at him. Of course he picks Leo first; he's Jewish after all.

"Eine . . ." he begins to count.

"HELP!" I scream. No use in running. He'll shoot us either way.

"Zwei . . ."

"DEAR GOD, STOP!" Leo is staring down the barrel of the gun in terror.

"DREI!"

Franz pulls the trigger just as I push Leo to the side, but the bullet is too quick. It punctures his chest, probably less than a centimeter from his heart considering I can still hear his breath. Franz turns the gun on me, but it fails to emit anymore bullets. He mutters a few German curse words as I thank my lucky stars and attend to Leo.

Blood is gushing out of his chest and all over his clothes. His body lies limp in my arms. I scream at Franz at the top of my lungs, overcome by a crashing wave of emotion. "YOU SON OF A MOTHERFUCKING COCK-SUCKING BITCH!" He flees the scene before I can add anymore insults to it, though. "ROGER, HE'S GONE! GET OUT OF THE CLOSET AND CALL 911!"

Roger and Carmen sneak out from the closet. Their mouths drop when they see Leo. "I'll call the police," Roger says, quickly making his way to the phone on the desk. "Carmen, darling, help out Max."

Without a word, Carmen kneels down beside me and stares at Leo with wide eyes. I don't know if Leo can make it until an ambulance comes. He's convulsing and his eyes are shaky.

"Stay with me," I tell him. "Just stay with me!"

I pull his blue blanket from his pocket and hold it against the wound in a desperate attempt to lessen the blood flow. "Max," he groans, spitting up blood in the process. His body becomes limper as each second passes by.

"They're already on their way. Someone called earlier saying that they heard gun shots," Roger explains after hanging up the phone. He looks down at us. "Dear God . . ."

"Leo, I don't know if you can even hear me, but Leo, I'm sorry!" I exclaim, burying my head in his shoulder. My words become slurred and incomprehensible from crying. I realize he doesn't have much longer. "I'm sorry I argued with you, I'm sorry I called you a lousy little mouse, I'm sorry I said I hate you! Oh God, Leo! I don't hate you, I love you! I don't want to see you go!"

Leo steadily spreads his trembling fingers apart and folds them into my hand. I clutch his hand just as I see his eyes close completely. The pulse in his hand dies away and his body becomes limp in my arms.

"LEO!" I scream, and then hold the corpse close to my body like it's some crude type of rag doll. I'm smeared in blood, but I couldn't care less.

"Max . . ." Carmen says, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. Even he's choked up. "Max, it's okay."

"Just put him down, dear. It will be alright," Roger tells me.

My hand won't depart from his, though. I allow my tears to drip onto his body. I cry harder and louder than I ever knew I was capable of. I hope this is all a dream, or maybe my tears will make him come back to life, but I know I'm only hurting myself by thinking that.

But I just want to see his little smile again, and I want his shaky, insecure voice to say my name one last time. I want to wrap my arm around his warm shoulders and sit on the couch with him, chatting about the Great White Way, and most of all, I want to see him wear that "producer's hat" he's been dying to get his hands on.

Forget about that one. It must be five years old by now. Instead, I take off my hat and gently place it on his head, a bittersweet smile wiggling its way across my face.


	2. To Love Him

**To Love Him**

Me? Love him? Roger, what the hell are you thinking? We're business partners, not anything else! Sure, I care about him. I want him to be happy. I want to give him all the joy that he was denied at that accounting firm, but that doesn't mean I'm in love with him.

Well, yes, we do live together. But that doesn't mean anything! We're roommates; nothing more. It's not like we secretly sleep together or anything. We don't even share the same room! He takes the couch and I take the bed. Well, there was that one time that I slept with him on the couch . . . but that was only because he had a nightmare. You know how hysterical he gets. And don't give me that skeptical look, I'm telling the truth!

Maybe I lean my head on his shoulder from time to time when we're alone in the office, and maybe I occasionally take his hand. And why do you care whether or not I look at him a lot? I don't! He has a beautiful girlfriend, anyway, and I've always liked women too. If I loved him, I think I would have given up any hope of a relationship with him by now.

Well, I do agree that he has a charm about him. Always so innocent. So insecure and so fragile that he should have a label on him that says "handle with care". It hurts me to see him cry. All I want to do is protect him, to make sure that he's never as unhappy as he was before we met. And okay, I'll admit I felt at peace when I held him in my arms that night on the couch. He's such an angel, after all.

I do realize I just called him an angel.

You say these are definite signs of love? I'm not sure that I'm ready to say that. But I can tell you one thing, Roger; he'll always hold a special place in my heart.**  
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	3. Merry Christmas

"What the hell is this?" Max asked as he walked into the function hall with Ulla and Leo, his face as red as a shiny apple that a kid would leave on the desk of their teacher. Maybe it was Christmas, but he felt more like Scrooge than Santa at them moment. He had been planning for this Christmas party for the cast of _Springtime for Hitler_ for weeks, and it still managed to be a disaster. To mark the half-way point of he and Leo's producing scheme, he decided to invite all the cast members they had just finished hiring and the rest of the crew to a yuletide party at a small function hall they had rented out. All seemed fine until he had left Roger and Carmen to decorate the place – which he knew he shouldn't have done from the very beginning. The state of the hall proved that.

Everything was pink and glittery. It looked more like a Valentine's Day festivity than a Christmas one. Sure, there was a figure of Santa Clause at the entrance, but he was wearing garland around his neck, and Carmen had slapped on some pink paint over his red suit. To top it all off, there was a manger scene with baby Jesus wearing Carmen's Italian chains.

"You do realize this is a Christmas party, right?" Max said, trying not to raise his voice too much. Leo clutched onto Ulla's arm, preparing for the blast of rage that was about to come from his business partner.

"Oh, Max, don't you think it's lovely?" Roger asked, stepping back to admire what he perceived to be a masterpiece.

Max groaned, and then finally let his temper go wild. "NO! IT LOOKS HORRIBLE! ABSOLUTELY HORRIBLE!"

"Horrible?" Carmen shrieked. "We've been working on it all day!"

"It's not Valentine's Day! It's goddamn Christmas, and even though I'm agnostic, I think it's pretty offensive to have Jesus wearing your chains!" Max marched over to the manager sitting on a small table and took off the chains. He slammed them down on the table, glad to see Carmen cringe at the sight of it. "The guests are going to be here in fifteen minutes! What do you think they're going to say to this?"

"I think they'll like it," Roger said, sticking his nose up in the air. "After all, beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"You've got that right," Max replied sarcastically, and then shook his head. "But whatever. It doesn't matter, we can't do anything now. I guess it will just be a . . . pink . . . Christmas." He turned to Leo and Ulla. "Come on. Let's make sure all the food's here."

Shortly after Max's slight disagreement with Roger and Carmen, the rest of the cast and crew began to flood the hall. Christmas music was played by the show's pit orchestra, along with some ragtime and showtunes thrown into the mix. Everyone was either on the dance floor or at a table, enjoying refreshments and conversation, mostly about the odd Christmas decorations.

Leo and Ulla were dancing to an old tune that the band was playing, swaying each other back and forth. Leo gazed into her eyes; the most beautiful he had ever seen. Her skin was so soft, and she was just so attractive. He had never known much about women or dating, but he was pretty sure Ulla was one of the most amazing girls in the world. Max always told him stories about how she was always talking with members of the cast while Leo wasn't looking, but they were just stories. At least that's what he wanted to believe, and after all, it was probably just his way of trying to push Leo out of the picture and insert himself into it.

"Leo like this song?" Ulla asked.

"Yes. I like this song very much," he said, unsure of what to say. He wasn't the best with conversation, but Ulla was used to that. She just smiled up at him.

"Merry Christmas, Leo."

"Merry Christmas, Ulla."

Before they could begin to dance again, though, Leo felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Max standing behind him.

"Can I talk to you outside for a second, Leo?" he asked. Leo turned to Ulla, who nodded and let go of him.

"I'll be right back," he told her as he began to wade through the mass of people on the dance floor with Max. It seemed to take hours for them to just to exit the hall. They pulled their suit coats tightly to their bodies, seeking warmth while standing in the chilly outdoors.

"So I guess the decorations weren't as bad as I thought," Max said. "They got peculiar looks, but at least no one is gagging at them. Well, except for a few people."

A silence passed between the two. "Is that all?" Leo asked.

"No, no."

"Oh." Both of them felt the level on the awkwardness meter spike. "So what did you want to tell me?"

Max let out a sigh. "I have something for you."

Leo seemed confused by the prospect. "I thought we said we were going to exchange gifts afterwards."

"You know me. I couldn't wait." The older man pulled a small box from his coat pocket. It looked like it could have held a small necklace or something of the like, but Leo doubted it was anything of that nature. This wasn't Carmen giving gifts to him, after all, and what would he do with a piece of jewelry besides give it to Ulla? He took the box and gently opened it to discover its contents; a section of a photograph that had been cut out. Leo recognized it; it was from the photograph that Max kept on his desk of Franz, Ulla, and them. He had made it much smaller, though, and only of them, as if there had been no one else there.

"Bialystock and Bloom," he said, a sentimental smile wiggling its way onto his face. The Scrooge that had taken control of him earlier that afternoon was quickly disappearing. "One can't go on without the other, right?"

Leo nodded. "Right." He smiled up at Max as he closed up the box and placed it inside one of the pockets in his suit coat. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Max replied. "Now come on. Let's get back inside."

The two began to head back, but Max noticed the mistletoe above the door. He pressed a light kiss onto Leo's cheek. Leo was stunned, but then looked above him to receive his explanation. He chuckled – something he rarely did – and then continued on inside with Max. Ulla would worry if he didn't return soon.


	4. Moving Day

**A/N: Most of the original writing I've been doing lately has been pretty heavy, so I decided why not take a break and write some fluff! This was the product. I also realized I hadn't updated any Producers fan fictions on this site since Christmas, so I thought it was time to add something to my short story collection. Hope you enjoy!**

**And as always, I do not own The Producers. It was created by Mel Brooks, and this fan fiction was written for fun, not profit.**

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Moving Day

"Well, I think that's it," Max said to Leo after placing his business partner's last suitcase on the ground near the old, green sofa in his living room. It was accompanied by five others that were stuffed with clothes and other assorted items from Leo's old apartment. "You sure as hell have a lot of clothes."

"Yeah," Leo replied. He didn't even bother to look up at Max. "Ulla always bought me stuff she thought I'd look good in." He plopped down on the couch and leaned his head against one of the arms. Just a week ago, he had learned that his wife, Ulla, had been cheating on him with a chorus boy from the latest musical Max and Leo had produced, _Prisoners of Love_. At first, Leo wasn't going to leave her, but after some consideration and a little bit of persuasion from Max, he had decided it was best to end their marriage and stay with Max until he could find an apartment of his own.

Max sat down beside his business partner and put his arm around him. "Come on, Leo! It won't be that bad. You're thirty-five and a free man again!"

"I guess," Leo said with a shrug.

"Forget about her for a little bit."

Leo shook his head and turned away from him. "Just leave me alone for right now, Max."

Max had no intention of letting Leo sit by himself and dwell over his failed marriage, though. "I don't want to see you stay on this couch all night and mope." He took a gentle hold of Leo's chin and turned his head so that their eyes met. "You decided you didn't want to take that crap from her anymore. So move on."

"But what if I made the wrong choice?" Leo's eyes were filling up with tears. He pulled his legs in toward his chest and took his blue security blanket out from his pocket. "I should have stayed!"

"And let her know that she can get away with being unfaithful to you?"

"No, but . . ."

"But nothing." Max let out a long, drawn-out sigh. "Leo, you deserve better than that Swedish skank."

"Don't call her that!"

"How about you stop defending her?"

"Why shouldn't I defend her? I love her!" Leo forced his head from Max's grasp and buried his face in the older man's chest, sobbing. "I love her, I love her, _I love her!_ Why did she do it, Max?"

Max patted Leo's back in an attempt to calm him down. If there was one thing he hated, it was seeing him this upset. Leo was so innocent, so fragile. He never hurt anyone. It didn't seem fair that he should have to deal with something like a divorce from his wife.

"She doesn't care for you as much as you care for her. Hate to say it, but it's as simple as that," Max told him. "And you know what you need to do now? Find someone who really does care for you."

Leo looked up. His eyes were red and puffy. "Like you?"

Max was taken aback by the comment at first, but after considering it for a moment, nodded. "Guess you could say that." He chuckled and gave Leo's hair a playful ruffle. "But don't you get any ideas! I'm not like Roger or Carmen, mind you!"

"Don't worry. I'm not either." Leo rested his head back on Max's chest, letting all the troubles of the previous week melt away in his business partner's arms.


End file.
